


I Can Watch A Sunset On My Own

by iktwabrokenbone (apiculteur)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Aromantic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiculteur/pseuds/iktwabrokenbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross makes mistakes (but aromantic does not have to mean broken).</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Watch A Sunset On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> if im honest i dont rly kno how 2 do capitalisation of titles. also guess which lil bean realised they were aro a while ago. defo not the one writing this aro themed story ahhahaha,,,,,

Mistakes were something Ross was used to making. His memory didn’t last too long- he burnt food because he forgot about it, handed in assignments late, and ended up with an empty fridge after walking straight past the shop on his way home. Mistakes were normal, natural, common. If Ross fucked up, he tended not to care, unless it was something too big.

This was one of those Too Big situations, one of the times when he knew he had fucked up in a bigger, meaner, messier way than he so often did.

Smith was beautiful. Smith was adorable. Smith was one of his best friends and his boyfriend, and Ross was in no way ashamed of giving him either of those titles. How could he, when the guy was so hilarious and good looking? For all he mocked Smith, he loved him, and the man seriously looked like some Greek god. Dating him- it was fun, it was wonderful. Ross liked tilting his head up to kiss him, the feel of his lips, the warm body curled against his back, the gentle mouth pressed against his neck. He liked the feeling of a hand in his, liked tracing patterns on Smith’s skin when he was bored. Smith- dating Smith, being friends with Smith, knowing him. Ross loved it, he really did.

For a while, he deliberate on being in love with Smith. Love was something he had felt for Smith for months, years, before Smith ever rushed up to meet his lips, tongue tasting of the whiskey he had drank (enough to make him tipsy, not drunk; confident, not careless). He had loved him before Smith had sworn under his breath, muttering that he liked Ross too much, and the months of bright eyes lingering on him had made sense. He had loved him before he had slid his hand behind Smith’s neck and pulled him back, wanting those lips.

They hadn’t talked about that until two weeks, many kisses, and a couple playful ass grabs later. Smith had been acting nervous all day, and Ross knew something was up when he withdrew from even just the soft kiss they shared inside of Ross’ apartment. It had taken a few seconds for him to speak. “Ross- I want to date you, you know?” he had asked, and Ross didn’t jerk back. Wasn’t this dating? He had never dated someone, perse, but there had been people he kissed, fucked, and went through the motions with. Labels were never something he bothered with, not for his relationships or his sexuality or anything else.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” he said. It was true. He wanted to kiss Smith, cuddle him- do all the things people who were dating did. Smith grinned and gave him a firm kiss before turning it into a hug.

“Good,” he said, and Ross loved seeing Smith smile.

The problem arose after this, three months into their relationship, when Smith said he loved him. It was said in a different manner to how it used to be said, no longer a confirmation of friendship, now a fresh confession. Ross didn’t respond, only smiled. The words were sweet, rested well on Smith’s tongue, but he didn’t know if he could return them. He was thankful Smith didn’t press him, didn’t look hurt or ask why he was so quiet.

It remained like that for another month. Their relationship carried on as before, now intersected with the occasional ‘I love you’ from Smith. It was Trott who he sat beside when he was thinking about it. They had been re-watching Return of the Jedi, living up to their nerdy status, and Smith came to mind, as he often did. He wasn’t here, having watched it too recently to be interested, so when Trott turned off the TV and turned to face him with a raised eyebrow, Ross knew what was coming. Trott knew him too well, had always had some strange connection with him.

“Ross, tell me what’s making you look so fucking worried,” he said, looking unimpressed, as he always did when Ross tried to hide things from him. Not that Ross was really hiding anything, so much as trying not to bother friends with pointless concerns.

“Am I supposed to be in love with Smith by now?” he asked. Trott knew he was bad at relationships, had learnt when he had watched him with the people he kissed at uni, bewildered when he only ever said, “I don’t know,” if Trott asked if they were fuckbuddies or dating or what. After the first couple people, he stopped asking. After uni, he hadn’t imagined ever trying to date- or whatever it was he did- anyone else. Smith had been an exception, an anomaly.

Trott exhaled through his nose. “There’s no point where you’re supposed to be in love. It doesn’t tend to happen in sync, and Smith doesn’t mind if you’re not in love with him right away,” Trott said.

Ross nodded. Falling in love happened at different paces. He was a few steps, a few tumbles, behind Smith, but he would get there. He would. Smith was beautiful and hilarious and Ross liked kissing him and sleeping with him and next to him. He liked holding his hand and the feeling on his beard. He liked- loved, in fact- Smith, and falling in love would follow.

***

It took two weeks before he wandered into a subreddit, one discussing sexualities. It had been linked by one of the fans, trying to educate someone who didn’t understand what bisexual meant but it- it said so much more than just bisexual and gay and straight. It mentioned romantic orientations, too, which Ross had never been aware of. He supposed he should be aware of romantic orientation, since he already knew that ace people could still fall in love. Romantic and sexual attraction were two different boats.

Fuck, Ross would have been better off not finding it, because apparently not everyone felt romantic attraction. Not everyone had to fall in love, and fuck, Smith was one of the best people Ross knew, and he was in love with Ross. He was well and truly in love with Ross and- no. Falling in love happened at different paces. He couldn’t hurt Smith like this.

Aromantic was a broken feeling. It felt too much like ruining what he and Smith had. He loved Smith kissing him and sleeping next to him and holding his hand, but he would love kissing Trott and sleeping next to Trott and holding Trott’s hand. Ross was an affectionate person, and never dating anyone meant this was the first time he had been so close to someone.

Fuck. Ross had screwed himself. He had fucking screwed himself over, and maybe it would’ve been better if he had thought he was still just pansexual, that romantic orientation didn’t exist.

***

He wasn’t sure he was aromantic. He couldn’t be sure. He just- fuck, he was lying to himself. He couldn’t tell Smith, not yet, not when he had slung his arms around Ross that morning, eyes closed, and gave him scratchy beard kisses. No, he wanted to delay that conversation just a little longer.

Trott was the one he had to talk to now. He waited until Smith left to say he had to talk about something with him. Glancing at the open door, Trott frowned. Maybe he didn’t know Ross was aromantic, but he knew Ross needed to break up with Smith. Trott read people well, and Ross’ face showed his emotions too much. It was hopeless.

Trott came to Ross’ apartment after work, Smith returning to his own place for now. Ross hated the neutrality of Trott, sometimes. He could school his face into an emotionless mask so much easier than Ross ever could, not judging or angry or upset- not that Ross expected him to be any of those things. This was Trott, and even if he could be painfully honest, he knew when Ross needed gentle words and when he needed to be told he was an asshole.

Now was a time for gentle words, something to juxtapose the confession that he was aromantic. It wasn’t what he wanted to be, not when there was Smith. He had been selfish to return that dizzy kiss, to hold his hand and carry on with it, to ignore his constant doubts that he felt anything more than friendship and sexual attraction to him. Smith deserved better, so much better.

As Ross had expected, Trott wasn’t angry, just huffed and gave him a quick hug. “You gonna break up with him then?” he asked.

Ross laughed. “I have to, don’t I?”

***

It took another day to reach that point.

He had hurt Smith. Neither of them cried, and Smith wasn’t angry, not even when Ross stuttered that he was aromantic. Smith just- smiled, pained, and said he was happy Ross managed to figure himself out, looked like a part of him had always expected this.

He left, and it was two hours before Smith sent a text saying, _Why did you fucking date me if you didn’t even know if you liked me?_

Ross texted Smith back to say he was sorry, but he had expected this anyway. Smith would feel bad for saying that later, Ross knew- in fact, the apology text came through only minutes later- but that didn’t make what he said any less valid. Ross was a bastard, an absolute bastard who had played too many people, whether or not he meant to.

Recording was awkward. For a good week, it was awkward, and Ross didn’t speak to Smith because Smith didn’t want to speak to him, and Smith deserved space, time to calm down before they were forced to talk about this.

The conversation was something he was dreading, and it came all too soon. Smith telling Ross that they were still best friends. That, yeah, Ross was a fucking asshole, but he hadn’t meant to hurt Smith. That he was forgiven, even if things might be slightly awkward for a while.

Ross wasn’t good with words. He mainly nodded, whispered apologies that Smith rolled his eyes at. Said he wished he wasn’t aromantic, to the protest of Smith.

“Why don’t you like being aromantic?” Smith asked, and Ross regretted bringing it up.

He shook his head. “It’s not the best thing to be.”

“Fuck off, Ross. Just ‘cause we didn’t work out doesn’t mean you’re some sort of monster just because you don’t fall in love with people,” Smith said, and despite his insults, Ross knew he was being truthful.

Ross didn’t respond, and Smith murmured something which Ross didn’t fully catch, but he knew it was him saying something along the lines of, “I mean it.” He left soon after, and in a week they were somehow back to normal (between the occasional friend who still joked about them dating because they hadn’t gotten the memo, the one time when Ross leant in to kiss his cheek goodbye before snapping away, the times Smith was staring and Ross caught him).

It was enough, for now, and at least he felt less broken as the days passed, as he found people like him, as Smith and Trott still treated him the same and spent Valentine's Day watching movies with him. Aromantic was not as broken and lonely as he had once thought.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont like unnecessarily sad fics *writes an unnecessarily sad fic* i mean why do ppl do it i dont unde


End file.
